


Do You Trust Me?

by gothicangeltas



Category: Bucky Barnes - Fandom, Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 06:26:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8001850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothicangeltas/pseuds/gothicangeltas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maggie decides to take one last trip through Europe. While shopping one day in Bucharest, Romania, she finds herself being attacked by two thugs, only to be rescued by a tall, dark, handsome stranger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Bucky in the red shirt in Captain America: Civil War
> 
> More chapters to follow, but this will be very short (was originally intended as a one shot, but it didn't work out that way)

_Maggie's POV_

Maggie wasn't sure when they had started following her. She stopped in front of a dress shop, and her reflection gleamed at her in the plate glass window. Just beyond her - close enough to make her uncomfortable but far enough away to make her wonder if she was just imagining things - two men stood deep in conversation while glancing her way every so often. They were both blond, blue-eyed "boy next door" types. It wasn't anything overt they did, other than watching her. With a shake of her head, telling herself that it was just her imagination, Maggie continued down the row of stores, stopping at a market. She snatched up a basket and dropped various fruits into it, only half paying attention to what she picked up.

Purchase made, she continued down the row. A glance over her shoulder found them closer than before. When they realized she'd spotted them, they hurried forward. Clutching her bag close, she turned and ran. Two wrong turns later, and she found herself alone in a back alley. Her two pursuers stopped at the mouth of the alley. They shared a moment's conversation - mutual congratulations, she expected - before sharing a grin and heading slowly into the alley toward her.

"S..stay back!" her voice shook, and she cursed herself. She could brave the streets of Baltimore but not some back alley in Bucharest? She stiffened her spine and slid her hand into the bag of fruit.

"What are you going to do," the shorter of the two asked in heavily accented English, "make us a fruit salad?"

"Well, you know what they say," she began, pulling an over-ripe apple from the bag, "an apple a day keeps the assholes away." She threw the apple at the taller of the two, catching him full in the face. The fruit exploded on impact, running messily down his face and neck. Hazel eyes glared at her from the muck."Well, that didn't go quite as expected," Maggie muttered.

The shorter of the two bit back a laugh as the tall one growled a curse and rushed forward. Maggie tried to dart around them, but they caught her, shoving her backward. She hit the brick wall hard, and darkness threatened as her back screamed in pain. Their hands were on her, pulling at her clothes. She could hear them laughing. The bag of fruit fell away, forgotten, as she tried to bat their hands away, struggling to stay conscious.

"Let. Her. Go."

Beyond her captors, Maggie saw the stranger at the mouth of the alley. He seemed to materialize from the shadows, his unshaven face only partially obscured by the ball cap he wore. He seemed tall, and long dark hair brushed his collar as he took another step into the alley.

The tall blond muttered something in Romanian to his buddy that Maggie didn't quite catch, and didn't really want to. A moment later, she could see the smaller blond ambling toward the dark stranger at the end of the alley. "He won't save you," the tall blond growled, regaining her attention. The apple had been mostly wiped away, but bits still smeared the front of his shirt. His hand tightened on her throat as he leaned close. "When Petre is done with your 'savior', we will have a party." He slid his tongue over her cheek to dip wetly into her ear.

"Not much in the partying mood, thanks," she muttered, knowing she should just shut up but couldn't seem to stop herself. He stank of apple, and she fought the urge to throw up. He smiled and shoved her hard against the wall again. Her head bounced on the brick, and her vision swam. She could hear punches and grunting from the mouth of the alley as the darkness closed in. I'm sorry, she wanted to say to her would be savior, but for what she wasn't entirely sure. The tall blond let her go, and she slumped down the brick wall, losing herself to the darkness.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

_Bucky's POV_

He'd seen her at the stalls, picking out the fruit. He could see how skittish she was, glancing around almost in spite of herself. He had seen them watching her, heads bent together in conversation as they glanced over at her. She left the stalls, and he watched the pair follow after. He frowned, looking away. It wasn't his problem. He had his own problems. He didn't need to add this to them.

"Damnit," he growled and followed.

He lost sight of them once, but caught up as the two men rounded the corner of the alley. He stopped and shook his head, wondering who was more foolish: the woman trying to evade her pursuers or himself. Of all people, he had no business playing the hero. 

"S..stay back!"

He could hear the fear in her voice. He'd heard it often enough from his missions. He rounded the corner of the alley and stopped short, watching the confrontation at the end of the alley.

"Well, you know what they say," he heard her say with her hand in the bag, "an apple a day keeps the assholes away."

Please have a gun in the bag, he thought.

She pulled out what looked like an apple, threw it, and hit the tall blond square in the face. He smiled in spite of himself. She had spunk, he'd give her that. His smile faded as he watched her pay for the throw, being slammed against the wall.

He stepped forward. "Let. Her. Go."

He saw her turn to look at him, her dark eyes meeting his. He saw the fear in those eyes flicker to something else - hope? - before she turned again to the man holding her. The two men shared a whispered conversation, and the smaller of the two came at him a moment later. He had time to see the taller of the two lean closer to her, swipe his tongue from her jaw and up her cheek.

A low growl escaped him. Some long buried morality rose up about defenseless women and bullies. The thought wasn't clear but one word ran through the jumble of his mind: _protect_.

He made short work of the one man. He didn't kill him, even though it would have been painfully easy to do so. A few quick body blows from his right with one final uppercut that snapped the man's teeth together with a crunch. He shoved the smaller man to the side as he fell, already forgotten as he made his way to the pair at the end of the alley. He quickened his pace, but didn't make it there in time to catch her before she slid down the wall, a trail of blood marking her descent down the wall. He growled, the sound rumbling from his chest as everything faded but the man in front of him. My mission.

Without thought, his left hand shot out, grabbing the tall man at the throat as he'd rushed forward. The metal whirred as his hand tightened as he lifted him off his feet. The tall blond's hands scrabbled against the hand holding him in place while he tried to kick out. Hand still on the man's throat, he rushed forward, slamming him hard against brick next to where she slumped. There was an audible crack, and the blond's blue eyes rolled back in his head as blood blossomed on the red brick.

The combination of colors seemed to snap him out of the killing rage. Blood. Brick. He dropped the man, staggered back a step. That's when he saw her and remembered. _Protect_.

That he could do. Already had done. 

He bent, moving her slightly to examine the wound on the back of her head. She moaned softly but didn't wake. He sighed. In for a penny, in for a pound. He wasn't sure where the phrase came from, but it seemed to fit as he slid his hands under her. He lifted her into his arms, cradled her gently against him as he rose, and headed back down the alley. 

_End Part One_


	2. Chapter 2

_Maggie's POV_

Maggie woke to soft strokes gliding across her forehead and cheek. She leaned into the warmth of the large palm, and heard a harsh sucked in breath as the hand stilled before pulling away. She opened her dark eyes.

The room was dimly lit, but she didn't need much light to make out the man seated on the edge of the bed. He had broad shoulders that were well defined in the faded red henley he wore over another darker t-shirt. What she could see of his face was unshaven, but most of it was hidden by long dark strands. She frowned, trying to remember. She looked around, eyes widening as she realized she was on a bed in a strange apartment. "Where..." her voice was a dry croak and unfamiliar to her own ears. It took a moment, but the memory came: two strange men, the alley, the tall blond slamming her against the brick wall... "It's all right," he said, his hands lightly gripped her shoulders, holding her gently back against the mattress, the lone pillow again beneath her head. "You're safe."

She looked up into blue eyes. He had been at the mouth of the alley. _Let. Her. Go._ "You," she croaked again. She swallowed, wincing. "It was you."

A small smile curved lips framed by dark bristle. "It was me," he repeated, his hands a gentle pressure urging her to lay back. "You should rest. You...you've been through a lot."

"Those...those men..." she struggled to form words, and he sighed, letting her go and rising from the mattress. She watched him cross the room to the small kitchen, heard water run, and then he was back. "Here," he offered the glass, and her hands shook as she reached for it. He sat back on the edge of the bed and brushed her hands aside. He held the glass to her lips. "Drink," he ordered. "It will help."

She drank slowly, the water cool as it slid down her throat. He let her sip slowly, never too much at once. She lightly touched his hand where he held the glass, and he immediately pulled back. "Thank you," she said softly, the words coming easier now but only just. "Who are you?"

He paused a moment, a small frown pinching his brows before he answered, "Bucky," blue eyes lifted to meet her dark ones, "I'm...Bucky."

His eyes held her until she felt a small smile curve her lips. "Thank you, Bucky," she said softly, "for everything." Again, she reached out to him, laying her hand on his only to pull back in sudden surprise as she encountered a smooth leather glove on his left hand. 

Bucky rose from the edge of the mattress and returned the glass once more to the kitchen. "What's your name?" he asked when his back was to her.

She looked at his broad back and worried her lower lip between her teeth. He'd saved her, hadn't he? "Maggie," she replied, watching his shoulders relax slightly. "I'm Maggie."

_Bucky's POV_

He leaned back against the wall, arms folded across his chest as he watched her sleep, her dark hair fanned across the pillow of his bed. Fragile, he thought, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. But she wasn't really. She'd stood up to those two in the alley. And now she was here with him.

He pushed off of the wall and paced over to the kitchen. He was a killer. Hadn't he proved that today? He would wait until she woke, was sure she was well and then see her on her way. He heard the rustle of his sheets and glanced over his shoulder to see her tossing and turning. 

His steps took him to her, and he sat on the edge of the mattress. He caught her shoulders, lightly pressing her back. "It's ok," he found himself saying, "you're safe." He wasn't sure if it was the soft pressure or his words, but she relaxed, her face turned toward him. He watched the frown leave her dark brows as her lashes fluttered once, twice, before falling still. 

He leaned back, unable to take his gaze from her face, the soft curve of her parted lips. He had the irresistible urge to lean down and press his lips to hers. He reached out before pulling his arm back with a soft whirr. 

Another man. Another time. He shook his head then frowned down at his gloved hands. Hands that had killed so many. He closed his eyes, and she let out a soft moan. His eyes flew open, but hers were still closed. The frown was back between her brows. He glanced again at his hands. Maybe, just once. He pulled the glove from his right hand, the hand that was still flesh and blood, and reached for her. It shook a little before lightly caressing her cheek. She nuzzled against his fingers, snuggling so he was forced to open his palm and cup her cheek. He sucked in his breath. It had been so long since he'd touched anyone like this. He pulled away as he felt her stir and closed his fingers over his palm. He could still feel her there, soft and trusting.

"Where..." her voice was a rusty croak, tearing him back to her being there. He lightly gripped her shoulders as she tried to rise.

"It's all right," he said, his hands lightly gripped her shoulder, and he fought back a wince at how small, how fragile she felt beneath his touch. "You're safe."

Her dark eyes met his, and he bit back a groan. He could lose himself in those eyes. They widened after a moment. "You," she croaked, "it was you."

His lips twisted into a small smile. "It was me," he repeated, his hands once again urging her gently to lay back. "You should rest. You..." he paused, shaking away the image of what could have happened, "you've been through a lot."

"Those...those men..." He watched her struggle to form words, and, once he assured himself that she wouldn't try again to get up, he let her go. He felt her eyes on him as he rose from the edge of the mattress and crossed the room. Taking a glass from the drain tray, he filled it with water and turned. Her eyes followed him, dipping to the glass in his hand.

"Here," he offered the glass, and when he saw her hand shake as she reached for it, he easily brushed her hand aside. He held it to her lips. "Drink," he urged, his eyes locked on her lips before lifting to her uncertain gaze, "it will help."

He let her sip slowly, never too much too quickly. His eyes took in all of her...the way one seemingly soft dark brown curl draped along her collarbone...the way her throat moved as she drank... Her hand on his snapped him back, feeling the tender brush of flesh on flesh. He pulled his hand back, bringing the glass with him.

"Thank you..." she began softly, "what's your name?"

That was the question, wasn't it? he thought, a small frown pinching his brows before he answered, "Bucky." His blue eyes lifted to meet her dark ones. "I'm...Bucky."

His eyes held her until he saw a small smile curve her lips. "Thank you, Bucky," she said softly, "for everything." Again, she reached out to him, laying her hand on his only to pull back in sudden surprise as she encountered a smooth leather glove on his left hand. 

Bucky rose swiftly from the edge of the mattress, turning his back on her as he returned the glass once more to the kitchen. He looked down at the leather glove. For a moment, he'd forgotten he was different. It wasn't her fault she pulled back. She didn't know he was a monster. "What's your name?" he found himself asking.

She paused, and it weighed on him. She shouldn't trust him anyway, he had decided. He opened his mouth to say it didn't matter when she spoke. "Maggie," she replied in the same soft voice, and he felt himself relax. "I'm Maggie."

_End Part Two_


End file.
